


ShinyZango's The Nutcracker - Another Reason

by LionessGamer



Category: Nußknacker und Mausekönig | Nutcracker and the Mouse King - E. T. A. Hoffmann, Shinyzango's The Nutcracker
Genre: ANGRY WOODEN BOY TO THE RESCUE, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But it doesn't get far, Clara has a bad time, F/M, The Nutcracker, shinyzango
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LionessGamer/pseuds/LionessGamer
Summary: Stopping at an inn to rest should have been relaxing and peaceful, a pleasant respite from their journey. However, someone has eyes for Clara and he won’t take “No.” for an answer.WARNING: If you don’t like reading about subjects such as sexual harassment, you have been warned. While I guarantee that there is no sex or rape here, there is an attempt. Proceed only if you are comfortable with that.Hans, Clara, and The Nutcracker adaptation belong to ShinyZango.





	1. Another Reason

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [ShinyZango's The Nutcracker](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/361818) by ShinyZango. 



> Get ready for an uncomfortable ride, ladies and gentlemen.
> 
> Characters and The Nutcracker adaptation belong to ShinyZango.

Claude Du Foe had always considered himself a posh man, equipped with enough charm and wit to start a whole religion if he wanted.

Both had served him well since he was a small lad, doing tricks on the side of the road to survive. Excellent breeding from his good-for-nothing parents helped in his endeavors as well, granting him a handsome face, a tanned complexion, flowing golden locks, rare emerald eyes, and a lean, muscular body. All proved useful in the success of his life of crime.

For decades, he had played the thief’s ladder game, going from picking pockets to armed robbery to the biggest money scams in the land. If you can think of a way to steal something, Claude had probably done it with only a few, suave words at his deposal. With just a turn of the tongue and a dashing smile, he could have swindled the kingdom from the king himself!

But a snake’s tongue wasn’t his only weapon. He had plenty of practice with the physical kind if his words had the rare failure. If a deal went bad or a ‘client’ started getting wise to his scam, he was quite experienced in making the problems disappear, either by his own hand or by some hired underlings’. No one had ever discovered his game without paying the ultimate price.

With such talents at his disposal, he had had years of a pocket full of riches, wagons full of possessions, the best of high-class living, and _plenty_ of women.

Dressed in a noble’s getup and armed with an irresistible grin, the women would flock to him. Whether it was for his wealth or for his good looks, it didn’t matter. Claude always got the action he wanted, with no attachments. The life of a cunning thug proved a plentiful one for him.

 Or, at least, until the mice took over.

Several years ago, they had rampaged through the whole kingdom, devastating the countryside. They took as much as they could and destroyed most of what they couldn’t. Although he had tried to keep back the tide, it hadn’t been long before Claude’s golden empire was demolished as well, wiped off the map by a couple of rodents and their abomination of a leader.

The mice left him penniless and all his connections either dead or too scared to show themselves. He was left wandering amongst the rabble of peasants with nothing left to their name, all because of their new dictators.

However, unlike many of them, he had been in that low position before. So, he tried starting over, pulling out some old tricks to rebuild in his fortunes.

But yet again, the presence of the mice made his work ten times more difficult. What little spoils they left behind were fiercely guarded by their owners and nearly everyone was on edge. People were far less trusting and far more suspicious of each other these days, causing many of his scams and cons to fall flat.

There was also another reason why he wasn’t being nearly as successful as he once was. Running down the right side of his face was an ugly-looking burn, starting at the bottom of as jaw, across his mouth, and ending on his nose. A part of his mouth and nostril had been curled from the damage, ruining his eye-catching smile and overall good looks.

He had received the deformity a little under a year ago while scoping out a caravan, traveling with the drivers as he worked up a scheme to hijack their cargo. But before he could initiate any sort of plan, the mice had attacked. Claude had fought many opponents before, civilians, guards, and even fellow bandits, but he had never faced a patrol of mouse soldiers before. Hardly any of them in the caravan had that day.

The supply train ended up pillaged and destroyed, with Claude seeming to be the only survivor. He had sprinted away from the carnage clutching a bleeding, burned face that an armored mouse had given him with a surprise up-swing of a torch.

Once he had healed up, he was dismayed to find that his work was now even harder to accomplish. Not many people trusted a gruff, hardened-looking man with an ugly scar on his face, offering to finance their struggling businesses or travel with their caravans. The increase in bandit raids along with the mouse threat made them all skittish as hell. Even those in dire need of body guards usually only outsourced to exiled doll soldiers, finding them far more trustworthy than the common thug.

So now, because of those stinking mice, here he was, sitting in dusty, tattered clothes at the bar of an inn with a room he could barely afford, drinking away his problems.

With a fucked-up face, no money, no possessions, no home . . . and no women.

That last part was really starting to become a bother for him.

He hadn’t bedded a woman since the night before his face was scarred. His empty pockets and now, less-than-impressive, dirty appearance didn’t exactly have the ladies gunning for his trousers. A near year with the absence of beautiful women around him had been far too long for a zealous man like him, to the point where it was becoming an uncomfortable itch. His current glass of alcohol was definitely not helping with that.

Honestly, he could easily wrangle up the coin for the common whore or the desperate harlot, but the thought of it, even in his buzzed state, left a bad taste in his mouth. Years of living the high life had made sure that he would forevermore have a taste for only the most delicious and freshest of fruits.

No . . . he would only accept the most exquisite females as his marks.

And never before had he seen a woman as exquisitely _fine_ as the one he had spotted across the room.

A rare beauty was eating at a table against the wall to his right, her flowing, autumn-red hair kept together by a pretty bow at its end and a purple, traveling dress hugging her form quite nicely. The gentle smile on her youthful face seemed to shine on her lips, bathing her in an invisible, holy light. Claude could feel his temperature rising from just glancing at her from the bar.

Seating across from her was her companion, the one who came in with her. He had heard talk of a human girl traveling with a nutcracker, but he had never really cared for the news, much less believed it. The nutcrackers were extinct and obviously not coming back, so why should he believe in such stories in such suspicious times?

Well, he seems that he had been proven wrong. However, his attention was barely on the silly toy she was talking to. His eyes were all for the girl of the rumors.

The rumors had said that she was a pretty thing, but no one had told him that she was an absolute _vixen_ , red mane and all. Why a vision such as her was traveling with a toy-boy was beyond him. That mechanical door-stopper would never be able to provide her with the absolute pleasure that a _real_ man could give her. Claude would do her so much more justice for a body like that.

Claude groaned, ducking his head down over the bar. Oh, he could almost feel the images playing in his head, all the things he could do to that foxy lass. It was making him fidget in his seat with need.

Claude pulled himself together when the bartender started looking at him strangely. Glancing back at the girl, he perked up when he saw that she was getting up to leave. Some old chap seemed to have the nutcracker caught in a conversion. The girl and the nutcracker spoke to each other briefly, the toy man looking concerned. The lovely lady gave him a dazzling smile, seeming to reassure him before moving towards the front door without him.

A pleased smile slide across Claude's face as he watched her hips swing with every step she took.

The smile soon turned devilish.

Placing the last of his coin on the bar, he slide off his stool. He stumbled a bit at first, the beer in his system making the world tilt a bit, but he recovered fast enough. And even in his slightly tipsy state, the thief had the sense to act casual and not run after her like a dog on the scent of heat. He kept several feet behind her as they both left the warmth of the inn’s bar and restaurant and ventured into the night air. He saw her bank right, going around the building, and knew immediately where she was heading.

She was going to her room using the inn’s side-stairway. The actual lodging for the inn were the several floors above the restaurant. Normally, lodgers would simply using the main staircase within the restaurant, which also acted as a front desk of sorts. However, a recent mouse raid had nearly burned the inn to the ground. The fires were put out in time to save the building itself, but the main stairway had been badly damaged, left charred and falling apart. For the time being, while repairs were underway, residents had to use the staircase in the alley beside the inn to assess the other floors and, in turn, their rooms.

And while that did make the alley a busy walkway nowadays, it was now very late into the cold night. By now, everyone was either asleep or planning to spend the rest of the night in warm bars like he had originally planned to do.

Claude could hardly believe his luck in those facts.

She turned into the dark alley and Claude waited a few seconds before following. Turning into the wide lane himself, he watched the lights of the few lamps in the alleyway play with her features as she dug into her bag, walking towards the staircase towards the end of the alley.

Somehow, she looked even more delectable when lanced with shadows.

He saw an opportunity when something fell out of her bag when she tried to take something out. He heard it bounce once on the ground before rolling off into the deeper shadows. The girl groaned in frustration before she bent down to search for it. He announced himself as he strolled up to her.

“Could I help ya with that, ma’am?” It took him a moment to notice a slight slur in his voice, causing him to grit his teeth at the slip and clear his throat. The little vixen immediately straightened, startled by his sudden voice. Her pretty, chocolate eyes reflected the dim light beautifully as she stared at him, gawking a bit. After a moment, she shook herself and then looked at him with a pleased smile.

“Oh, that would be so nice, thank you! I was trying to find my room key when my bottle of resin fell out.” Claude barely registered the words she spoke, her voice far too captivating. It was the voice of an angel and Claude couldn’t keep his imagination in check as he thought about how her angelic voice would sound in a more pleasurable environment.

Automatically, he bent down with her as she continued to search for her bottle in the dark. Although he was barely trying to find her lost object, too focused on the bend of her body, it was Claude’s fingers that found the small, glass container in the shadow of one of the alley’s cargo crates.

Picking up the bottle, he slowly straightened up, weary of his alcohol levels, and presented it to her.

“Here you go, Miss . . .?” Clara looked up from her search, grinning happily at the sight of the bottle. Claude felt his blood heat up.

She stood up as well and Claude passed the resin to her, marveling at how soft her hands were when they touched. She smiled brightly up at him in gratitude.

“Clara. My name is Clara. And thank you so much for finding it!” Carefully, she tried to inspect the bottle for cracks in the dim light. Finding no immediate damage, she carefully placed it back in her bag. Claude eyed her curiously before remembering his manners and giving her a small bow.

“You’re very welcome. And my name is Claude, Claude Du Foe at your service.” Straightening back up, he questioned her.

“And if I may ask, why is a bottle of resin so important to you?” Claude could see the woman’s face morph into a combination of sadness and worry as she answered him.

“It’s for Hans. He and I tend to run into trouble and Hans usually ends up getting hurt.” She held her bag close as she stared off to the side. She bit her bottom lip in worry and Claude found himself staring at the action, just barely coherent enough to carry on the conversion.

“The nutcracker?” He asked nonchalantly. Clara nodded in answer.

Hoping to play up to her, Claude gave her a kind smile.

“That’s very considerate of you.” Clara gained a slight blush from the praise before smiling at him again.

“I suppose, but I just wish I could do more for him.” Claude edged closer to her, gazing down at her with slightly hooded eyes. The itch was starting to dig at him. She stood a foot away from him, ripe for the taking, so he decided to play his praising card.

“I’m sure that just having a beautiful woman such as yourself at his side is more than enough for him. Or, at least, it would be for me if I were in his shoes.” His statement seemed to catch her off-guard and her blush increased in color. Claude almost licked his lips at the sight.

“Oh . . . um . . . thank you! That’s . . . uh . . . very nice of you to say.” She stuttered. She was obviously not used to being called a beauty. A fact that just might make his night all the sweeter. But then, she asked a question that caught him off-guard.

“Mr. Foe, if you don’t mind, can I ask how . . . uh . . . how did you get that burn?” Claude frowned, suddenly feeling irritable at her question. He gritted his teeth and looked away, snarling at the darkness.

“Mouse attack. I took a torch to the jaw.” He put it simple. He had no intention of launching into a story, not when he was just itching to grab her now and be done with it. Trying to catch her interest was starting to take too long.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The sympathy and concern in her voice soothed his irritation a bit. He shrugged at her.

“Just another reason to hate those rodents.” She nodded back in agreement and, for some reason, started looking down at her foot. Turning his head back to her, a grin spread on his lips as he made another strategy. Time to play the sympathy card.

“I’m sorry if it disturbs you.” His statement and its sad tone got the desired reaction. Her eyes widened and she lifted her hands in a negating wave.

“Oh, no, no! That’s not it at all! I was just . . . curious. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think that.” He smiled, pleased, as she ducked her head in shame.

Curiosity was good. Curiosity could lead to some _very_ interesting things.

And he was _very curious_ about all the things he could make her do. And all the things _she_ could make _him_ do.

His blood began boiling with heat at his new train of thought and could barely keep himself from drooling at her. It was obvious to him that it had been far too long since he had any proper release. He could barely wait another second!

He had to hook her **_now._**

“It is quite alright, my dear. In fact, why don’t we forget about my poor complexion and focus on yours.” She looked at him with a cute tilt of her head, bewildered.

“W-What?” Claude smiled alluringly, chuckling at her confusion.

Time for the flattery card.

“I’m only saying, why should we be focused on me when the whole world should be focused on you.” She looked even more confused before her confusion transformed into surprise when he grabbed one of her hands and gently kissed it, his eyes kept on hers.

“For you must be the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.” The intense blush that attacked her face at that moment brought a giant smirk to his mouth. He reluctantly released her hand as she pulled it away.

“O-Oh! Um . . . th-thank you?” She gave him an embarrassed and uneasy smile, her cheeks rosy red in the lamplight. Claude took a step towards her, temptation becoming too much.

“I can see that you don’t believe me. Has no one ever told you how divine you look?” Clara stayed put as he came even closer, looking down at the ground while rubbing her cheek.

“Uh . . . no . . . yes? I suppose . . . maybe . . . maybe not in those exact words . . .” She said with a nervous tone. She looked up at the wall of the inn and stared at it for a bit, ringing her hands anxiously. Then, a very small smile formed on her face as she seemed to be remembering something.

And now for the assumption card, to make her more willing to prove his assumption wrong. As unbelievable as the concept was, and as much as the thought annoyed him, he had to act like he believed that that acorn-muncher held claim over her. He took another step towards her, nearly nose-to-nose with her. She timidly took a step back.

“Well, let me tell you right now . . . if you weren’t taken . . . me and every other man in the kingdom would be **_begging_** for your attention.” The girl’s body straightened up, shock and disbelief painted on her lovely face.

“T-Taken?” She squeaked, her voice adorable in that pitch. Claude’s treacherous mind started coming up with more alluring scenarios involving that pitch. He shook himself awake from his brief fantasy to continue.

“Aren’t you with the nutcracker?” He asked, forcing his face into a confused expression.

The girl was instantly a mess of nerves, with a tomato-red face and wide, frantic eyes.

“O-Oh! Oh n-no, Mr. Foe! Hans is . . . Hans is just a dear friend! We’re . . . uh . . . we’re not together.” Her expression grew a bit sad, but Claude barely noticed. Despite knowing that a human beauty like her would never be with a block of wood like that, a part of him rejoiced at the news. She really was _ripe_ for the picking.

“Please, dear Clara, call me Claude. And in that case, I’m sorry for the assumption. But I stand by what I said.” He grabbed hold of her fidgeting hands, holding them firmly and still as he gazed his seductive eyes into hers.

“If you were mine, I would give a beautiful and kind woman such as yourself everything you desire, and then some.” A shaky smile appeared on her conflicted expression as she gently tried to pull her hands away again. Claude let her go, enjoying the small game of hard-to-get.

“That’s . . . that’s mighty kind of y-you.” She replied, backing away a bit.

Just then, a strong, extra-chilled wind swept through the town, funneling into the alley. It ruffled Claude’s cloak and played with the woman’s red hair. Clara shivered, despite the warmth of her cold-weather clothes. She rubbed her cheek, her face having taken the brunt of the cold. Claude’s smile grew wider, seeing his opportunity. His heart started pumping faster with excitement and his blood was running to all the right places, but he forced himself to keep a cool appearance.

“You look chilled. Would you like to come up to my room, to continue our chat there?” He flashed her a charming smile.

He was stunned and disappointed when she immediately shook her head, not even taking a moment to consider his proposal.

“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Foe, but I’m actually feeling very tired. I think I’m just going to retire to my own room now. And besides, Hans would worry about where I am. Maybe we could talk tomorrow before we leave?”

At her refusal, Claude soon found himself growing frustrated. At the nutcracker’s name, he found himself getting angry. Why should she care what the nutcracker thinks? A fake-man like that wasn’t worth anyone’s time, much less hers. But Claude, Claude was a real man. He could give her so much more. He could give her the time of her life.

“Are you sure? I am very much enjoying your company and I had hoped you were enjoying mine. It would be a shame and a sadness to stop our conversation so soon.” He kept his anger concealed, making one last ditch effort.  But then, his anger burned even hotter when, once again, she refused him.

“I really am sorry, but I really do want to get some sleep. Tomorrow then?” She took several steps back, turning her back on him to head towards the stairs.

She had barely taken five steps before her arm was grabbed, pulling her back. She turned around, looking up at Claude with wide eyes as his smile became a fiendish smirk.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t do tomorrow . . . how about tonight?” He growled in both anger and seduction. She was not getting away that easily. He wanted to steal this prize too badly.

“Wha-What are you doing?” She asked in a panic, trying to yanking her arm out of his grasp. In the midst of her struggle, Claude rose his hand to her cheek, making her freeze at his touch. She stared at him with those big, melted-chocolate eyes. They looked downright delicious.

He purred softly to her, his temperature rising higher.

“Such a divine creature as yourself shouldn’t bed down without first being driven there by the most heavenly of pleasures.” The girl’s eye went wide and her mouth dropped open in horror. Her struggle increased ten-fold as she tried to push him off of her.

“Let-Let go of me!” She yelled, shaking in panic. She tried to claw at his hand through her gloves, desperate to get him to let go. He pulled her even closer, easily overwhelming her in strength.

“Ohhhh, come on now, my darling, I only want to give you the greatest night of se—“

A sharp crack filled the air as Claude’s head snapped to the side. His hold on Clara released at the hit and the girl stumbled back a few steps, breathing hard. Both stood still in the dark alley for moment, stunned into stillness. Claude slowly turned his head back to her, holding the cheek that she had given a hard smack to.

He watched as Clara took several steps back before turning and gunning for the stairs. A surge of anger and a sick, twisted enjoyment had him leaping after her.

She had only managed to place a single boot on the first step of the stairs when Claude snatched her again, latching a hand onto her arm and pulling her roughly back to him.

“You’re feisty too. I like that.” He snarled, the sting of his cheek screaming at him to show her who’s boss. And a long lesson in his authority, he would surely give her. It had been a while since he had any sort of authority over someone. The prospect of domination was thrilling, to say the least.

But despite that, he was disappointed with her unwillingness. Very rarely did Claude take an unwilling partner in the past, having been a prime catch for women throughout his long life. But this one was just too tempting to pass up, too necessary for the survival of a touch-starved man like him. He was going to have her, one way . . . or another.

He quickly glanced further down the alley, at its end. Earlier, he had noticed a broken door there, leading into the building beside the inn. The structure had been recently abandoned, having sustained a good amount of fire damage during the last rodent attack.

He smirked. It would work well for his current needs.

Nearly crazed with want and excitement, he gripped both her arms tightly, intent on giving her no escape. The girl flinched in pain at the bruising force of his large hands.

“Sorry, love, but I’m feeling a tad too frisky tonight to play the gentleman card for long.”

Clara’s eyes went wide, her terror skyrocketing. She opened her mouth to scream for help.

Acting quickly, Claude pushed her against the wall of the empty building, knocking the breath out of her. As fast as he could, he reached for his belt and dug into a small pouch on his side. Holding his breath, he took a pinch of the powder inside and threw it in her face.

At the assault of debris, Clara closed her eyes and started coughing, having inhaled a mouthful of the stuff. It was a mere few seconds later that she started to go still. Soon, she was frozen in place, not one part of her moving besides the steadied rising and falling of her breathing chest.

Claude grinned with glee as he wiped his fingers off on his pants, so very ready to finally take his prize.

He rarely used that powder, the ingredients too rare and expensive to use lightly. Its effects also didn’t last long, a minute or two at best. The mixture could be consumed or breathed in, but the result was always the same; near complete immobilization. He only ever really use it when setting someone up or when trying to make a quick escape.

It was a handy trick to have, and it was a recipe he was glad to have stolen from that long-dead thief years ago. He definitely had to thank his lucky stars for that recipe now.

“This paralyzing powder will keep that tantalizing body of yours still for me.” He cooed at her, his eyes exploring the body that he would soon get to taste.

Unable to resist, Claude moved closer to the girl, pinning her frozen form between him and the wall. He buried his nose in her soft hair and took a deep breath, inhaling her glorious scent. One of his hands had snuck under her dress and was slowly running up her thigh.

The trapped girl let out a long whimper though her sealed mouth. Pulling back, Claude placed a hand on her face in a comforting gesture, whispering in her ear.

“Shhhhhh, there’s no need for whimpering, sweetheart! Or at least . . . not yet. You can whimper and moan all you want once we get started, because I assure you, I’m going to make this the most pleasurable night of your life.” His other hand moved even higher up her thigh, caressing her through the cloth of her leggings. His other hand left her cheek and slowly moved down her neck towards her chest, savoring her soft, flawless skin.

As he did so, Clara slowly forced her terrified eyes open, her body twitching as the powder’s effect began to weaken. Noticing this, Claude quickly reached for his powder pouch, intent on dowsing her again and then, at last, moving her into the secluded building for a good time.

However, he paused when her pretty eyes suddenly darted to something behind him and went unbelievably wide.

Before he could even spare a glance to investigate, the collar of his shirt and cloak suddenly went tight around his neck, causing him to gag. The next thing he knew, he was wrenched away from the girl and sent flying through the air. He heard the girl cry out, but the rush of air kept her words from his ears.

Claude hit the ground hard, rolling across the dirt until his back hit a crate. The breath knocked out of him, he laid there hissing in pain. After a few seconds to gather himself, he pushed himself up into sitting position. The pain from the fall and the numerous scrapes he had sustained flared his temper and he jerked his head up to glare at whoever dared interrupt his time with the lady.

He stiffened at the hulking figure marching towards him, Clara on her hands and knees behind it. The shadows of the alley and the lamplight behind the figure obscured its features, but the con-artist quickly recognized the shape. Despite the intimidating approach, the sight of the nutcracker nearly made him laugh. He started to his feet, intent on teaching the toy a lesson.

“Heh. That was a nice toss, nutcracker. But I’m afraid the lady and I were—“

His threat never made it out of his mouth. Every word left him for two reasons.

The first was the giant, right hand that shot out and latched onto his throat, cutting off his breath.

The second reason was the nutcracker’s face, finally revealed in the light of the lamp above them. Fear pierced the bandit’s heart at the terrifying change in the nutcracker’s appearance.

Back in the bar, he had looked incredibly clumsy and childish, a drummer boy compared to the actual soldiers and fighters he had seen in his life. A mere toddler of a line of useless toys.

Now, however, he looked nothing like a boy . . . and everything like a nightmare.

Wooden lips were pulled back to an almost unreasonable extent, baring teeth that looked much sharper and much larger than they should be. His whole body was twitching, as if he was malfunctioning. The toy’s hat was also missing, revealing locks that could have easily passed for spikes, ready to impale.

And then, there were his eyes. They glared out at him from the shadows of his bangs, irises shrunk into pinpricks, nearly disappearing. The white of his eyes seemed to glow with the blatant rage that defined every part of his body.

“HANS, NO!” The young lady screamed as Claude was slammed into the brick wall of the inn, pinned against it a foot off the ground. He immediately struggled once he regained his senses from the forceful slam, trying furiously to break free. He clawed at the hand around his neck, but only felt its hold tighten in response. He considered his powder in a panic, but mentally cursed when he remembered that it didn’t work on dolls.

A sudden surge of anger and desperation ran through him as he hung like a helpless pup in the nutcracker’s grasp. Snarling, struggling to breathe, he riled his foot back and kicked out to nail Hans in the stomach.

Only, there was no stomach to hit, only hardened wood. The vicious kick had no effect on the nutcracker as Claude’s boot bounced harmlessly off the bottom of his chest piece. However, it proved to be a bad move on Claude’s part as his foot throbbed with agony from the hard collision.

Pain added fuel to the fire and a surge of adrenaline sent one of his hands shooting for his hidden dagger. The serrated, fighting knife pulled smoothly from his boot and he slashed at the hand holding him prisoner.

A terrified gasp from the maiden was the only reaction. Once again, the nutcracker did not flinch. Instead, when Claude went for another hack, Hans’ other hand lashed out and caught the blade. Within seconds, the knife was ripped out of the bandit’s hands and demolished between the nutcracker’s teeth, blade bent and ripped from its handle. Claude’s treasured weapon fell to pieces at their feet.

Sweat started to form on the man’s brow as the weight of the situation bared down on him. Those nearly deranged eyes and powerful jaws brought forth faint memories of dark nights, of stories told around campfires and bars. Stories of the Nutcracker line. Tales of inherent madness and jaws chomping in a frenzy. Of shattered weapons and limbs sheared clean off.

And a persistent need to **_bite._ **

There was a reason why not many people mourned their disappearance and he was about to personally find out why. His mouth ran dry and the blood drained from his face as he stared at the embodiment of those horror stories, his breath quickening despite his difficulty to breathe past the tight grip.

All of his anger, arousal, and confidence from before were swept away, destroyed under a colossal wave of fear.

His heart nearly stopped when the nutcracker’s huge fist started to rear back, a deep growl rumbling out from the toy’s chest.

Claude’s lucky stars had finally run out.

At last, the predator had become the prey.

He was belly-up in the water, staring into the eyes of a shark he had failed to notice.

He was trapped.

He was fucked.

He was gonna . . .

“Hans . . . stop.”

That melodious voice spoke the request as its owner darted forward and latched onto Hans’ free arm, seeming to try to restrain him and hug him at the same time. Her tone, while shaky with nerves, spoke of a deep worry and a calming kindness that called to the one of the spoken name. The nutcracker’s persistent twitching faded at the call. Those hollow eyes finally peeled away from the terrified criminal to meet the eyes of his dear companion, a growl still in his throat and his lips still pulled back in a snarl.

With his attention, Clara loosened her hold to carefully move down his arm, grabbing hold of Hans’ clenched fist. Her eyes never left his as she spoke softly to him, gently ran her fingers along the cut that Claude’s blade had made on the back of his hand.

“P-Please don’t do it, Hans. It’s okay. I’m s-safe now, I’m alright. Everything’s al-alright.” Claude watched in amazement as the murderous rage began to drain from the nutcracker’s expression. Golden irises started to enlarge back to their normal size, cutting into the consuming whiteness created by fury.

Clara pulled his hand close to her chest, placing her hand into it when his fingers unfurled for her.

“P-Please, Hans. He’s not worth it.” Even from his position in Han’s one-handed chokehold, Claude could see Clara’s chocolate-brown eyes shining in the dim light with unshed tears. He would have found it a pretty sight, if it weren’t for the crying and his current life-or-death situation. The nutcracker, however, seemed to find it distressing.

Closing his eyes, Hans took a breath and let out a long exhale, the tension bleeding out of his body as he did so. Claude felt the fingers around his neck loosen enough for him to breathe more effectively. When Hans opened his eyes again, he gave Clara a small, reassuring smile. He nodded his head in agreement and squeezed her hand. The girl’s body nearly sagged with relief as she smiled back up at him.

Claude sagged in relief as well, sighing loudly through his bruised throat as his fear died down.

That was a mistake.

Hans’ attention snapped back to the full-grown man trapped in his hold, fierce anger burning once more in his eyes. Claude yelped in alarm and Clara cringed in worry as Hans pulled his hand away from hers. Only a serious glance from Hans kept her from interfering again, his eyes silently asking her to trust him. Focusing intently on Claude once more, Hans moved his body closer to his hostage, bearing down on the man.

While the blinding rage was gone, there was still plenty of anger left in his eyes to burn a hole into Claude’s skull. The bandit half-expected it to happen.

To be incinerated by twin Suns, now that would be a way to go! He’d prefer that to the horrors that could be done with a nutcracker’s bite.

He actually found himself praying for incineration when Hans’ bared teeth began to open. His trembling grew stronger at the sight of those fabled teeth ready to snap him in half.

“Now . . . listen carefully, you piece of **_trash_**.” Claude’s whole body froze at the utter growl that left his captor’s mouth. Hans lifted his empty hand, fingers curled as if he thought he had claws to rip him to shreds with. The muscular man in his hold shivered at the thought.

“If. You. **_EVER._** Touch Clara like that again . . . or any woman for that matter!” Claude flinched at nearly every spatted word. Hans’ voice became a hiss as his golden eyes narrowed.

“I’ll gladly accept another reason to be called a **_nutcracker_** . . .”

Hans’ open hand snapped shut in a tight-balled fist, ready to slam down on him. His jaws clamped together at his last word with a terrifying snap, emphasizing his threat.

Claude went pale and sweat poured down his face. He could do nothing to stop his legs from curling up to form a meager shield around his unmentionables.

Curled up in the air like that, the former crime tycoon had never felt more like a pathetic whelp in his life.

Hans leaned in closer, glaring straight into the thug’s eyes. Claude tried to lean away in panic.

“Do I make myself clear?” The question was quiet, but every word a deadly dagger ready to strike. His hand tightened in warning, nearly choking him.

Unable to nod and barely able to speak, Claude forced himself to fearfully gasp out as he began to gag for air.

“C-C-Clear.”  The man could barely stand the suspense as Hans watched him choke, searching his face with dark anger and distrust. Hans gritted his teeth as his hold began to loosen again.

“Then never forget who showed you mercy this night.” The nutcracker then yanked his hand away and Claude fell on his ass at Hans’ feet, gasping for his breath.

“Now get out of our sight.” Hans growled in disgust as he took a step back, keeping himself between the human rat and Clara. He scowled in contempt as the man of flesh quickly shot off the dirty ground and bolted down the alley towards its opening.

The once smooth criminal ran as fast as he could and as far as he could, dashing down the town streets. The few who witnessed his frantic run thought he must have had the Devil himself on his heels.

To Claude, that was certainly the case.

The Devil was on his heels, chasing him down for all his sins . . . from those gold-painted eyes.

 

* * *

 

Both girl and nutcracker stood frozen in the dark alleyway, stuck in silence. Clara stared up at Hans’ back as he glared in the direction of Claude’s escape, still standing protectively in front of her.

Shaking quite a bit from the fear and adrenaline, Clara took an unsteady step towards him, reaching out.

“H-Hans?” She called to him weakly, her voice cracking in her trauma.

The rattled girl jumped back when the nutcracker spun around suddenly, the shadows unable to hide his distraught expression as his attention was turned to her.

“Clara! Are you alright?!” He nearly yelled, his voice filled with dread. He reached out to take her in his arms, to make sure she was okay, but stopped his advance dead when Clara flinched and took a step away from him. Hans submissively withdrew his outstretched arms, dismayed by her reaction.

“Clara . . .” He whispered her name, his tone saddening. His expression then became pained and uncertain as he realized what was happening.

After such a traumatic experience like that, it was unlikely that she would want to be touched by anyone anytime soon . . . and that included him. Her body trembling before him only seemed to confirm that. He backed away a bit, trying to give her some space to breath. As he did, he pleaded with her, his heart breaking at the sight of her so scared, of him no less.

“I . . . I-I’m sorry, I . . . I-I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner! Please . . . I don’t want you t-to be scared of me! I just . . . I would never--!” He begged for her to understand. His arms twitched. He wanted so badly to just reach out and hug her close, to comfort her as best as he could.

But he couldn’t. If he tried, he would only make things worse . . . just like everything he did.

His massive hands raising to his face, he covered his tearful eyes in despair and took another step away from her.

“I-I’m so sorry, Clara . . .” His regretful voice echoed around them, mixing in with the distant sound of crickets chirping.

The dejected nutcracker nearly fell backwards, hands flying off his face to try to keep him balanced, when Clara suddenly rammed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as possible. Stunned, Hans looked down at her to see the young woman burying her face into the hard wood of his chest, still shaking like a leaf.

His missing heart cracked the very moment he heard her start to sob. The urge to hold her close and never let go became too overwhelming.

His arms quickly wrapped around her, holding her gently to his body as his head fell forward to lie on top of hers. Very slowly, he lowered them both to the ground, carefully sitting down on the hard ground before tenderly curling around the crying girl in his lap.

Holding back his own tears, he sought to cease hers dripping onto his chest in any way he could. He gently rocked back and forth as he stroked her back, whispering comforts in her ear. At first, she flinched at his voice in her ear and a few more times when he tried to adjust her in his lap, but slowly and surely, she began to calm down at his caring ministrations.

After a while, her sobs died down, replaced by a few stray sniffles. She continued to cling to her nutcracker, finding much needed comfort in his presence despite her initial fear.

She stayed there for a while, lying limp against him as he hummed in her ear. She forced herself to finally relax, to take slow, even breaths and to quiet her trembling.

It was over. She was safe. She was okay. That horrid man hadn’t gotten the chance to do anything to her and never would again. She was going to walk away from this in one piece.

All thanks to her brave nutcracker.

Feeling better, Clara opened her eyes. She then sluggishly removed her head from under Hans’ chin, his arms loosening to let her pull away. She looked up at him as he looked down. She grimaced at the sheer amount of worry and guilt reflected in her nutcracker’s eyes. He looked ready to cry, but he held himself in check so that he could be strong for her.

Reaching up with a shaky hand, she cupped his cheek, stroking the smooth wood. She smiled at him, a single tear joining the rest as she softly thanked him.

“T-Thank you, Hans . . .” They just stared at each other for a moment, one surprised and the other steadily pulling herself back together. Then, Clara darted forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, her face now buried in the crook of it.

“Thank you so much!” She cried out. New tears began their journey down her face, but unlike before, these tears were of a happier kind. A relieved kind.

The arms that were still around her tightened, holding her close once again. He held her there for a moment before speaking in a whisper.

“I don’t know if I deserve your thanks . . .” He told her, his tone still guilty. Pulling back again, Clara wiped her remaining tears away to give him a baffled look.

“B-But Hans . . . you saved me. You got here just in time.” Hans looked down at their laps, still feeling ashamed. If he hadn’t been so invested in the old man’s tale back in the inn, he would have left with Clara. She would have been safe and not . . . and not . . .

His train of thought took him to a dark place, flaring his anger at both himself and that man. He nearly growled as he spoke.

“Yeah . . . just in time. Just in time to see that **_bastard_** putting his filthy paws all over—“

Hans’ head jerked back up in a panic, catching his words. The last thing he wanted was to remind her of what had just happened.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, Clara! I didn’t mean to—“

Clara placed her fingers on his mouth, stopping his frantic apology. Hans’ watched in amazement as his victimized friend gave him a bright, _happy_ smile.

“A-And then you rescued me . . . just like you always do.” Hans blinked at her, astonished as she slowly leaned her forehead against his, her hands on his shoulders. Closing her eyes, she spoke to him with a beholden air.

“I can _never_ thank you enough for that, Hans.” He stared at her calm face, his gaze following the drying tear tracks on her cheeks. Then, with a sigh, he leaned his forehead against hers in return. His arms, still wrapped around her waist, pulled her even closer to him. Clara did not resist.

At her contentment, Hans closed his eyes as well, finally let himself feel a bit relieved.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.” He whispered, his voice weak, but lighter than before. They stayed like that for a long moment, letting the last of their frazzled nerves cool down. Opening their eyes, they smiled at each other, glad to see the calm in each other’s eyes.

Then, the nutcracker’s expression became serious. Without moving his head away from hers, Hans’ hands moved to gently take her hands from his shoulders, holding them in his. Clara immediately noticed how much more natural and comforting the gesture felt when it was with Hans’ large, wooden hands, rather than the warm, human ones of a devious stranger.

Looking her in the eyes, he squeezed her hands in his as he felt a white-hot determination build in his chest. What had happened to Clara tonight had been unpredicted and unacceptable. So in retaliation, he made a vow, to both the girl in his arms and to himself.

“I promise you, Clara. As long as I’m here, I will do everything I can to make sure that you will never, ever have to go through something like that again.” The tone of his promise spoke of a fierce protectiveness, daring anyone to come and try to make him a liar.

New tears springing to her eyes at his strong conviction, she nodded to him, smiling gratefully as she nuzzled her forehead against his.

“I-I know. Thank you so much, Hans.” Blushing lightly, Hans smiled as he slowly nuzzled her back.

When their heads finally moved away from each other, Hans leaned back to take in his friend’s appearance. Back in the inn’s bar and restaurant, Clara had been tired. It was late at night and they had been traveling all day. Her constant yawning prompted her to leave him to his sudden conversation with a villager to retreat to their room for some much-needed sleep.

But then, that **_urchin_** attacked her, and now that the problem was gone, she looked even more exhausted.

With a soft smile, Hans cautiously moved his arms and legs around her, getting in position to lift her up bridal-style as he stood up.

“You looked exhausted, Clara. Let’s get you to our room so that you can rest.” At his movement, Clara began to protest, not wanting to bother him with carrying her, but Hans quickly shushed her. Making sure her bag was secured across her torso, Hans straightened up with Clara in his arms. Effortlessly, he carried her up the stairs and though the door at the top, Clara opening it for him from his arm’s cradle.

He walked down the hall of the inn at a leisurely pace, not wanting to jostle Clara too much. As he walked, he couldn’t keep his mind from thinking back to what had happened, and to what could have happened. Glancing down at Clara with a saddening expression, he revealed his current line of thinking in a low, mournful voice.

“I . . . I really am sorry that this happened, Clara. I . . . I wish I could have kept it from happening.” He wasn’t sure if anything could ever completely erase the disappointment and shame he had for himself over this. It had been too close of a call for comfort and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling like he had failed her.

Clara’s head tilted up to him, her expression both sympathetic and haunted. Swallowing at the anxiety of the last hour, Clara gave him a small smile, wanting to reassure him as well as herself.

“I do too, Hans, but . . . but you _did_ keep . . . keep _it_ from happening. Because of you, I’m still okay. I’m going to be alright.” The nutcracker hummed in weak agreement, clearing another set of stairs to the third floor. His lack of confidence in her answer put a frown on her face, knowing how he was still thinking about himself.

Looking up at him as he read the room numbers on the walls, Clara studied the wooden man. Almost immediately, the sight of Hans’ face and the feeling of his arms holding her made all her fear and anxiety melt away. When she was in his arms, it felt like nothing could touch her. Despite the reality of their situation, the growing danger around them, he still managed to be her pillar of strength and protection, regardless of how poorly he regarded himself.

To her, Hans was everything she could ever ask for in a friend and ally.

But maybe . . . just maybe . . . to her . . . this man was just simply everything.

That said, she would not allow him to feel like this was his fault. She knew that he felt like he had failed her, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He had _saved_ her, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. As far as she was concerned, Hans could never fail her and he had to know that.

Lifting her hands to his neck, Clara pulled herself up in his arms, her heart beating a little faster.

“You know, even though I never want to go through something like that again . . .”

The nutcracker stumbled, nearly freezing mid-step when the human girl in his arms pulled herself up to his face and kissed his cheek. With his face burning, he looked down at her as she looked up at him with a shining, beautiful smile. The wooden boy could swear he could feel what had to be his heart racing in his chest.

Laying her head back down on his chest, her tired voice was warm as she played on his earlier words, starting to drift off to the sound of his phantom heartbeat against her ear.

“I’ll gladly accept another reason to call you my hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I grew up with too much Law & Order: Special Victims Unit?
> 
> Claude is based off the 17th century bandit known as Claude Du Val. He was known for defying the norms of armed road thievery by not resorting to violence when ripping people off. He used charm. He was described as "dashing, witty and handsome," and women would flock to his wake, fighting for a chance to touch his body.
> 
> This Claude, however, was not afraid to resort to violence if his charm failed. And he’s obviously used to getting any woman he wants. However, Clara was the dangerous exception.
> 
> And, BY THE WAY, I DID feel gross writing some of this. I hope you guys are happy now! XD
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Bonus - Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ShinyZango decided to have some ideas in her discord chat, so I decided to make a little extra chapter for you guys. Enjoy!

Golden eyes bore their gaze into the white wall ahead as their owner tapped his wooden foot against the hardwood floors of the inn’s hallway. The cursed nutcracker was leaning against the wall beside the door to their room, waiting in silence.

Unfortunately, his waiting soon had him lost in his own thoughts. The images of what he had seen just half-an-hour ago, what he had almost done and what he had almost let happen, kept replaying again and again in his head, taunting him.

He bowed his head, sighing in frustration. Everywhere they turned, Clara was put in danger. He feared every day that somewhere on their journey, she would get hurt or worse, killed.

But tonight . . . tonight had been especially terrifying for him. He had never considered that something like this would happen. He had never thought that there would be danger from other humans before, certainly not of that kind.

That mistake had nearly costed Clara dearly.

He tried swallowing the imaginary lump forming in his throat, shaking his head in angst.

He couldn’t imagine how scared Clara must have felt, how she must be feeling right now.

He hoped that he could help her get through it, since he had failed to keep her out of it.

The sound of a doorknob rattling to his right pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. Looking up at the door beside him, he watched it open to reveal his dear friend, dressed in the nightdress she had worn when they had first met. Turning her head to him, she gave him a tired smile as she held the door open.

“I’m decent, Hans. You can come back in now.” The nutcracker smiled back at her, pushing off the wall to follow her back into their room. He closed the door for her as she walked back to the single bed in the center of the room. Grabbing her bag that was sitting on the bed, she began digging through it. Hans walked farther into the room as she pulled out their bottle of resin. She flinched at the sight of it, but quickly shook off the negative emotions now attached to it and proceeded to inspect the glass in the bright light of the desk lamp.

Hans watched her as she did her task, noting the darkening bags under her eyes and the tired droop of her eyelids. Her body was even slouched forward, as if she was close to falling over in exhaustion.

Hans frowned. She had nearly fallen asleep in his arms when he had carried her up to their room. It was obvious that she was on the verge of falling asleep standing up at this point.

Coming up to her side as she put the bottle away, he placed a firm hand on her arm.

“You look exhausted, Clara. You should be getting some sleep.” He told her, reaching forward to grab the bag from her. The girl resisted, stubbornly burying her hands deeper into the bag as he tried to pull it away.

“But Hans, I-- *yawn* I need to—“

She cut off when he finally pried the bag from her, giving her an amused smile when she pouted at him.

“You can do it in the morning, Clara. You need to rest.” After transferring the bag to the side table, he turned to the bed and yanked the corner of its comforter out from under the pillows and out to the side. Moving away, he eyed her expectantly, hand gesturing to the spot he had prepared.

Clara was about to argue with him, but a yawn was all that came out of her mouth when she tried. She laughed at her own weakness, causing Hans to chuckle as well.

“Oh, alright . . .” She replied, giving up with an amused smile of her own. Rubbing her eyes, she moved toward the spot where Hans had moved aside the blanket for her. Slipping over the covers, she quickly settled in, her eyes already struggling to stay open at the growing warmth of the bedsheets.

Sluggishly looking over, she watched Hans pull out his new book from her bag and seat himself in the chair by the lamp. The sleepy girl casted one last smile at the nutcracker as he removed his hat to place it on the floor beside him.

“Goodnight Hans.” She whispered fondly. At her good wishes, Hans smiled back at her, his expression soft.

“Goodnight Clara.” With his gentle response, she let herself roll over, turning her back to him to block out most of the lamp’s light.

Closing her eyes, she felt herself immediately beginning to drift. Within moments, she was asleep, her curled body going limp beneath the soft blanket.

Hans relaxed back into his seat as he opened his book, preparing for the long night ahead. He read slowly, trying to use the book to eat up as much time as possible.

It must have been about an hour later, when he was just a few chapters into his book, when Clara’s body started to twitch. At first, her small movements didn’t really catch his eye. But soon, Clara’s twitching turned into violent tossing and turning, effectively grabbing the nutcracker’s attention at that point.

Concerned, Hans perched his opened book on the arm of his chair and stood up from his seat to move closer to the bed. Looking down at her, he was dismayed at what he saw.

Clara’s face was pulled into a terrified expression, her eyes screwed shut as her fingers dug into the bedsheets desperately. A cold sweat was forming on her brow as low whimpers began to slip past her clenched teeth.

Alarmed, the nutcracker gingerly reached out, hoping to shake her awake.

“Clara? Clara! Wake up!” He called as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

In an instant, her eyes shot open, a scream ripping itself from her mouth. Hans jumped back in fright at her shriek. He watched in shock as she bolted up in the bed, panting and looking around wildly.

Recovering quickly, Hans was soon back at her side, carefully placing his hand back on her shoulder. Clara’s feral eyes snapped to him, unseeing, as her hand rose to strike him. Hans’ hand caught hers as it swung at him, holding her steady as he looked her straight in the eyes.

“Hey! Hey! Clara! It’s me! Hans! It’s okay, you’re safe!” At his desperate calls, recognition bleed the girl’s eyes as their haunted gaze began to fade away. But with her recognition, there came tears.

At the sight of them, Hans automatically sit down on the bed beside her, opening his arms to her as she dove into his chest. He held her as she shook with silent sobs, whispering whatever comforting words he could think of.

“Shhhhhh, you’re okay. You’re alright. You’re safe here. You were just having a nightmare.” He rubbed her back, willing her to relax as he hugged her closer. She continued to tremble against him, but Hans was relieved to find her shaking growing weaker and weaker at his efforts.

When the breathing of his dear friend finally normalized, Hans lowered his head to hers, needing to ask.

“Was . . . was it about . . .?” He asked cautiously, too worried about her to voice the rest of the question. Clara stiffened for a moment before slowly nodding.

Hans sighed, softly dropping his head on top of hers. They stayed like that for a bit, Hans continuing his comforting strokes until Clara’s eyes had completely dried. Seeing her body completely relax against his chest, he whispered gently to her.

“Do you feel better now?” She weakly nodded against his chest, feeling far more exhausted than ever before. Reluctantly, both of them pulled away from each other, looking into the each other’s eyes. Seeing the completely drained look on her face, he began to slide off the bed, but not before placing a hand on her cheek, wiping away the remaining tears. He gave her a compassionate smile.

“Good. Now please, try to go back to sleep. I promise, I’ll wake you up again if you have another nightmare.” And with that, he stood up from the bed, taking his hand away from her cheek as he turned back to his previous perch and open book.

“H-Hans?” Her nervous call stopped him dead in his tracks. Turning back to her, he gave her a questioning hum.

Clara’s outstretched hand was pulled back to her, a light blush on her face as she looked down at her lap.

“Could . . . could you . . . stay here?” She was wringing the blanket between her hands as she made her meek request, looking very anxious.

Determined to soothe her, Hans sent her a warm smile, shaking his head in answer.

“Don’t worry, Clara. I won’t be leaving this room.” He became confused when her head shot up to look at him, a blush still present on her cheeks.

"Oh, I’m sure of that! But . . . but, uhm . . . I meant, if . . . if you could . . ." She looked back down at her hands, now clutching the blanket. The blush on her face was becoming a deeper red as time went by.

The nutcracker stood there watching her fidget, confused, before understanding lit up his face, painting it red as well.

“. . . oh.” He breathed out lamely. Now the both of them were decorated with deep blushes, their bodies barely moving due to their sudden shyness of each other.

But then, Hans compelled himself to move forward. Despite the fact that her request made him exceedingly nervous, he had no intention of refusing her, especially not when she had looked so scared.

Clara watched in surprise and shy elation as Hans gently nudged her over to make room for himself. She obediently scooted away, dragging the covers with her, as Hans carefully pulled his bulky body onto the bed. After stretching out along the bed and leaning back against the bed’s pillows and headboard, he tenderly pulled her back to him, letting her situate herself against his side. He reached over her and grabbed the covers she had pulled away, wrapping both the cloth and his arm around her. Pulling the offered blanket closer to her, Clara wiggled deeper into his side, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she settled. Once both their movements had stilled, Hans looked down at her, gaging her expression.

“Is this okay?” He asked, rubbing a hand along her back. A bashful smile on her lips, she nodded as she uttered her thanks. She then quickly curled up against him, intent on fulfilling his request for her to rest now that she was in his arms once again.

Leaning his head back against the headboard, Hans closed his eyes, figuring he might as well try to get some sleep as well, as unlikely as it was.

However, it must have been only half-an-hour later that he found that he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping.

“Hans?” Clara whispered, her hand on his chest curling into a tight fist. Opening his eyes, the nutcracker looked down at the conflicted girl laying on his chest.

“Hm?” He hummed. The girl brought her head closer to her chest, looking small.

“I . . . I can’t sleep.” She meekly whispered, sounding upset and disappointed in herself.

Saddened by her predicament, Hans adamantly searched his mind for a way to help her.

Obviously his company alone wasn’t enough. He needed to do something for her, something to lull her into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Old memories immediately snapped to the forefront of his mind, suddenly clear as day.

Back when he was younger, he used to have frequent nightmares. They were mostly things he could never remember once he woke up, but they always managed to leave him in a cold sweat, shaking under his covers. On those nights, his Uncle Drosselmeyer would come in and sit next to him, whispering a few comforting words.

Then, he would begin to sing.

It would always be the same song, sung in a strange language that Hans never understood. His uncle never told him the translation either, perplexing him by saying that there was no translation, that it was simply pleasant dreams put into vocal rhythm.

But despite the lack of understandable lyrics, the melody’s flow and the soothing sounds of its foreign words always succeeded in settling his rattled mind and would drag him down gently into sleep once more.

When his uncle sang that song to him, the nightmares would never touch him for the rest of the night.

Over time, Hans became quite familiar with the mysterious song, eventually learning it word for word. To this day, he knew it by heart and he had to give thanks to his uncle for that.

Gently shaking Clara’s shoulder, he pulled her attention to him, her head moving to look up at him from his chest. Feeling a bit bashful for what he was about to do, Hans nervously reassured her.

“H-Here, let me try something . . .”

With a faint blush on his face, Hans leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his body and willed himself to become lost in those warm memories.

And then, with the ancient song coursing through his mind, he began to sing.

Clara’s eyes went wide as she watched the nutcracker beneath her sing a strange melody to her. The lyrics didn’t sound like any language she had ever heard before, but that didn’t seem to matter. She quickly found her tense body relaxing comfortably to the delicate flow of Hans’ singing voice. She couldn’t stop her head from dropping back onto his wooden body, her eyes drifting shut.

Verse by verse, line by line, Hans’ rich voice was pulling her down into gentle rest, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth and peace. A smile drifted across her lips as she listened to his strange and beautiful lullaby, his phantom heartbeat fading in beneath her ear to pulse in time with the tempo of his voice.

All her fears, all her doubts and anxiety, were melting away into the blanketing darkness that was surrounding her.

His words, his arms, his very presence curled around her in a protective shroud, keeping her safe as she finally entered into blissful slumber.

An affectionate smile crossed Hans’ lips as a soft snore sounded from the woman in his arms. Eyes still closed, he let the lyrics carry him to its finish. With a few more soothing syllables, the song came to an end and his voice faded away into the sound of her gentle breathing. He opened his eyes, wanting to take in the sight of Clara finally sleeping peacefully.

His whole body jerked in fright, eyes going wide and his mouth dropping open in shock.

They faded away moments after he spotted them, but Hans knew that they hadn’t been his imagination.

Swirling trails of golden dust had been drifting through the air around them, like snaking ribbons of sun-kissed sand. Some of the strange particles had been dusted on Clara, glittering across her long hair. They too faded away with the rest when he looked.

_What was that?!_

His thoughts were running wild. He was about to shake Clara awake, afraid that the strange apparitions might mean something bad, but the very sight of her made him stop.

The violent jump his body had done when he first saw the gold trails had failed to stir her, her body still completely limp against him. A blissful smile graced her lips, her face fully relaxed. In her sleep, she nuzzled his chest, hugging him tighter in her arms as she curled against him.

At the sight of such peace and contentment about her, he couldn’t bear the thought of waking her up now.

Still very unnerved, Hans’ arm held the girl close as his eyes searched the room, looking for anything strange.

He found nothing out of the ordinary. No evidence of that floating dust remained or appeared, the room remaining silent and unmoving.

Taking a deep breath, Hans forced himself to relax. Whatever it was, it was gone now. It didn’t seem to have done anything wrong either. Nevertheless, Hans wasn’t going to let his guard down. Not when he had someone so important that he had to protect.

Sagging back against the headboard once more, Hans took on the role of guard dog for the night, keeping watch for anymore strange appearances.

The precious girl pressed against his side slept on, finally finding absolute peace in the comforting presence of her guardian nutcracker. His love and affection for her echoed within her dreams as the soothing harmony of his singing voice.

Her nightmares never stood a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before, Claude was hoping to jump into Clara’s bed, but it looks like Hans gets the honor instead!
> 
> What? Poor taste? XD
> 
> Anyway, the idea here is that the lullaby that Hans sang was actually a dream spell and he unknowingly used a little bit of magic to send Clara into pleasant dreams. He doesn’t know it, but he inherited a small amount of magic due to his magically-inclined family line (his uncle Drosselmeyer being a prime example).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this bonus chapter! You can thank ShinyZango for that! And just about anything I write from now on!


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